


What Do You Stall For?

by dreamlittleyo



Series: Distress and Disarray [32]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Feelings, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rank Disparity, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 15:02:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18831055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: In which Washington considers that Hamilton may have a point.





	What Do You Stall For?

Washington finds Hamilton in his bed again the very next night. And then the next. And the next after that, without a word of explanation, until Washington ceases to be surprised at waking with his boy snugged in his arms.

Hamilton doesn't kiss him again, which is surely for the best. There is an existential schism between Washington's best intentions and more selfish desires, and he's caught helplessly between them. He burns to possess Alexander Hamilton in all the ways the young colonel is offering. He is also painfully aware of the mounting frustration, as a tense new silence grows between them.

He should kick Hamilton out of his bed—insist that these nightly visits need to stop—but he's not strong enough.

One week later he wakes with arms empty, and it's a jarring shock after growing so accustomed to the tenuous new status quo. His pulse rushes, his heartbeat loud and fast beneath his skin as his senses sharpen instantly to high alert.

When he opens his eyes, he immediately feels foolish for his disproportionate alarm. There are any number of reasons Hamilton might be absent—from an early morning task to perhaps opting to sleep in his own quarters. But as Washington blinks and takes in his dim quarters, he discovers Hamilton still close at hand.

His boy is awake and watchful. Sitting at the foot of Washington's bed, with knees tucked to his chest and a thoughtful expression on his face.

Washington resists the urge to ask the computer what time it is. He feels rested enough to assume it's morning, but his wakeup alert hasn't sounded. At least an hour until the start of his shift, then. He does not speak a word as he meets Hamilton's eyes, letting the quiet linger between them. He harbors no delusions of an uneventful morning; he is far too familiar with the deeply pensive look on Hamilton's face.

It's Hamilton who breaks the silence, speaking with a tone that manages to be both wry and brazen at the same time. "This is stupid."

Washington's brow furrows in answer. When no further explanation follows, he pushes himself up to sit cross-legged. Facing Hamilton. Making no effort at all to mask his confusion.

Eventually, when Washington doesn't speak, Hamilton continues, "I don't get it. You'll kiss me. You'll admit to being jealous. You'll let me _sleep in your bed_. But you won't fuck me, even though you clearly want to. _That's_ somehow the line you refuse to cross."

The truth of Hamilton's words strikes Washington with a jolt so abrupt it draws his spine straighter. His reticence is exactly as absurd as Hamilton makes it sound. A pointless distinction. Washington is every day proving himself a greater hypocrite, and for what purpose? To safeguard his boy when Hamilton has repeatedly made clear he does not want to be protected?

Hamilton's voice is stubborn steel. "How long are you going to keep insisting that the fact you outrank me matters? We've been in a monogamous relationship for months. Don't pretend we haven't."

"You're right."

"And fucking _furthermore_ —" Hamilton draws up short. Stares. Goes suddenly, utterly still. And after several seconds of stunned silence, says, "I'm sorry, what?"

"You're right. This is stupid. I've had endless opportunities to do the right thing and reassign you. Having failed to do so, I can hardly claim the moral high ground."

Alexander gawps at him. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying _come here_." Washington's heart feels lighter in his chest—thudding fast and giddy—and he can't help the smile that twitches at both corners of his mouth. He opens his arms, braces his back against the wall, and is pleased when Alexander scrambles across the mattress and into his lap. The weight that settles across Washington's thighs is more reassuring than it has any right to be, and he threads his fingers through his boy's hair.

"It can't be this easy." Alexander's expressive eyes are helplessly wide. "After _all this_ —you've pushed me away a hundred times—but _now_ you're willing to listen?"

Washington doesn't know how to explain his sudden change in attitude. It's as though a switch has flipped between his mind and heart. There is still a fear seated deep in his chest, of somehow harming Alexander, of wronging him despite the best of intentions. But gone is the terror of taking advantage; his boy is far too candid.

"Yes," he says instead of trying to find words beyond his reach. "Now I'm willing to listen."

Alexander laughs, and the sound is smooth and warm and exasperated. "Jesus. You're goddamn impossible."

"And yet here you are."

"Fuck you," Alexander retorts, but he's smiling. The glint of disbelief in his eyes fades with every passing moment.

Then Washington tugs Alexander forward and kisses him.

His boy melts against him, opening for the teasing slide of Washington's tongue, wrapping his arms around Washington's shoulders. Holding on with a ferocity that suggests he still fears being pushed away. But Washington is through with those evasions, and holds on just as tightly.

Before he can adjust their positions—he suddenly wants _very badly_ to have Alexander beneath him—the chirp of a comm line interrupts them.

Lafayette's voice follows immediately with a cheerful, "Bridge to Washington."

It's with a barely stifled groan that Washington stops kissing Hamilton and fumbles toward the edge of his bed for the comm badge on his nightstand. He finds it, collects it, taps to accept transmission. "Washington here."

"Sir. Apologies for interrupting your sleep, but the away team is reporting a delicate situation. We need you on the bridge." Lafayette's tone remains light enough that Washington surmises the 'delicate situation' is not a dangerous crisis—but the fact that he is requesting Washington's presence says it's serious enough to warrant his immediate attention.

"I'll be there directly," Washington says, even though removing himself from this bed is currently the least appealing prospect he can imagine.

He taps his comm badge again, closing the line with another chirp. Alexander stares at him, lower lip jutting suspiciously like a pout.

"This is bullshit," Alexander announces.

"Yes. But I still have to go. We _will_ continue this conversation. I promise."

Alexander kisses him again, brief and fierce, then grudgingly withdraws. "I'm holding you to that."

Washington pushes his boy gently off of his lap, already counting the seconds to the end of his shift.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Harbor, Team, Loud


End file.
